


Happenstance

by Rebequa165



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Apologetic Draco, Drarry, Feelings, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kisses, Light caresses, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mention of arousal, Pining Draco, Referenced wet dream, Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebequa165/pseuds/Rebequa165
Summary: Harry and Draco’s epic rivalry continues into their eighth year, but things get out of hand when Harry is seriously injured. Draco, guilt-ridden, visits the comatose boy every day, divulging his deepest secrets as he provides company and comfort. Little does he know, Harry is not in a coma at all, but is very much awake during these intimate visits.





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second fanfic, and I do not have a beta, so please be nice!
> 
> I also played around with different points of view- they're all labeled, but let me know if it's confusing, or could be done better. 
> 
> And, to show how inexperienced I am with posting stuff, I also accidentally posted the first chapter twice, as two different works. Whoops! So I deleted the other one, but this is the exact same thing (for those of you who saw the other one before I deleted it). 
> 
> Anyway, thanks, and enjoy! Commenting/feedback is always welcome!!

_Draco’s POV_

 

Draco had just left his Defense Against the Dark Arts class on the sixth floor. He was alone, which tended to be the norm these days. Only Pansy returned with him for their eighth year from Slytherin, as the rest either fled with their parents after the war or stayed home, living off of their family’s money.

Pansy really only came back to Hogwarts for Draco’s sake. Her family had stayed neutral during the war, and therefore couldn’t be prosecuted for anything. Draco’s, on the other hand… Well. Both of his parents were currently serving life sentences in Azkaban; his father for all of his willing involvement and participation in the war, and his mother for aiding and abetting the Dark Lord. She may have been an unwilling accomplice, but an accomplice nonetheless.

Draco should be sitting in a cell right along with them, but he was shown leniency since he was underage when he first took the dark mark, and he was coerced, to put it mildly. Oh, and Potter, of course. Potter spoke on his behalf at his trial, which was what tipped the scale in his favor and essentially got him off. The only stipulation was that he had to complete his education, and that he will be on probation for up to five years. Draco didn’t know what he did to deserve whatever deity that guided Potter to do such a thing, but he will be eternally grateful. Not that he’d ever tell Potter that.

Speaking of Potter… Draco was pulled out of his thoughts when the bespectacled brunette rounded the corner at the other end of the hall and was making his way towards Draco. The blonde had somehow made it to the third floor without even realizing how he’d gotten there. This wasn’t his usual route- he must have been walking on autopilot.

“Potter,” he said a bit more harshly than he’d meant to. That’s what happened when he thought about his parents and the war.

Potter was still about ten feet away, but close enough for Draco to still see the eye roll. “Piss off, Malfoy,” was the reply as he kept walking.

Draco should just keep walking past him. Maybe knock into his shoulder, but otherwise let it be. He should try to be less of a git, but he just never does seem to be able to resist a confrontation with Potter. At least he’ll have the brunette’s attention, if only for a few minutes.

“Oh, I should just piss off whenever the _Savior_ appears, should I? You think you’re so entitled now that you’re a _hero_.” Draco wasn’t actually offended by the comment, he just emitted comebacks like they were nothing.

Potter shoved right by him and called over his shoulder, “Better to be seen as a hero than a Death Eater on the loose.”

Draco was gob smacked.

_That’s what he thinks of me? He was the one that got me off!_

The blonde charged after Potter and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around and drawing his wand. Before the brunette could say a word, Draco cut him off. “You insincere bastard. If that’s what you really think, then why the fuck would you speak on my behalf? Did you want me to owe you? You wanted to hold it over my head?” He could feel his hands shaking from anger, so he balled them into fists.

Potter just pinned him with a cool stare. “No, Malfoy. I was sincere. You’re no more a Death Eater than I am a hero. That was my point. I spoke for you so you wouldn’t rot in Azkaban, unlike your despicable parents.”

“Don’t you dare speak of my parents! My mother was not despicable, she even _helped_ you, you- you _arse-_ ”

“Yes, your mother did help me. I spoke for her as well, but it wasn’t enough. I thought you would’ve known that.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Your father on the other hand should’ve gotten the Kiss, if you ask me.”

 Draco’s entire body was shaking with rage. He couldn’t think straight, he could barely restrain himself. _I can’t start fights, I have to walk away, I’m on probation. FUCK._ “At least I still _have_ a father,” he sneered, fully prepared to walk away.

Then Potter’s fist connected with his jaw and he was stumbling backwards, seeing red. His wand lay forgotten on the floor.

Draco charged forward and got a few good hits in before he was nearly taken to the ground. He staggered and righted himself just as Potter was rushing him. The brunette brought his fist back, ready to break his nose, when the blonde dodged and used Potter’s momentum against him, pushing him hard towards the staircase. _A tumble down the stairs will certainly end this stupid fight._

Only… At the exact moment Potter stumbled over the threshold, the staircase moved. And Potter fell.

_No no no no NO!_

Draco lunged for the gap in the railing, arm extended, but it was too late. Potter was free-falling, looking back up at Draco with a horrified expression on his face. Time stood still as Potter seemed to fall in slow motion. He was pretty sure he could hear screaming over the blood pounding in his ears, but whether the screams were Potter’s, bystanders’ or his own, he had no idea.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only about three seconds, Potter hit the floor below with a sickening bang. His eyes were still locked on Draco’s, only this time they reflected a look of pure panic. And he wasn’t moving.

Draco jumped into action and sprinted down the corridor, picking up his wand on the way. He took the stairs three at a time to the second floor, then around the corner to the next set of stairs. He flew down them, and then ran to the spot where Potter had landed, where a small crowd had already gathered around him.

Someone was yelling for help. Several others were running in the direction of the Great Hall, probably looking for a teacher. It was lunchtime, after all.

Draco shoved through the crowd and dropped to his knees beside Potter. Who still wasn’t moving. But once again, his eyes were locked onto the blonde’s, panic still the most prevalent emotion displayed in them, only now there were tears intermittently falling down his cheeks.

Draco wanted to reach out to him, hold him, _something_ , but he knew- he just _knew_ something was terribly wrong. Potter was injured, and badly. He couldn’t risk touching him. So he just knelt there, shaking uncontrollably and wide-eyed as he waited for help to arrive.

It didn’t take long.

All of a sudden, Draco was being pulled backwards by strong arms. He resisted at first, reaching out to Potter, but this strong person doubled their efforts and dragged him back. The rest of the crowd was also being dispelled, as several teachers had arrived to the scene. Looking up, Draco realized that the arms around him had remained, and they belonged to Severus Snape, who was crouching down beside him. Feeling slightly less alarmed, his eyes snapped back to Potter.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were keeping all the students back as Madam Pomfrey cast diagnostic spells on Potter. After an agonizing minute, she cast a series of complicated spells, and Potter completely froze- immobilized, more likely- and lost consciousness. He was then levitated, and was slowly gliding after Pomfrey.

“Mr. Malfoy. You will accompany us up to the hospital wing,” McGonagall commanded as she walked past him after Pomfrey and Potter.

Draco couldn’t speak. Or move. He simply allowed himself to be hauled up by Sev and numbly followed.

*             *             *             *             *

Once Draco and Sev pushed open the heavy doors to the hospital wing and entered, McGonagall rounded on him.

“Mr. Malfoy. I have been informed that you _pushed_ Mr. Potter just as the staircase had moved, resulting in his fall. Is this true?”

Potter was at the far end of the ward, closest to Pomfrey’s office. She was casting more spells and magically arranging him on the bed, and then summoning various potions.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Pomfrey was pouring one of the potions down Potter’s throat while simultaneously casting a spell to make him swallow. _He can’t even swallow on his own?_

“Mr. Malfoy! I repeat, is this-”

Draco bolted to the side of the nearest bed, where a trashcan was positioned, and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into it. When the heaves subsided, he collapsed, back up against the bed and knees bent in front of him. He couldn’t stop shaking.

“I believe, Minerva, that Draco is in shock. Perhaps you could wait to question him until he has been treated?” Sev spoke quietly. It wasn’t really a question.

“Of course. I’ll send Poppy over as soon as she’s finished with Potter.” With that, McGonagall made her way over to Potter’s bed, where she had a very serious whispered conversation with the Healer.

Sev sat down on the bed behind Draco and rested a hand on his shoulder. He remained silent, but the gesture was more than Draco expected from his mentor. They sat there for Merlin knew how long, while Draco tried with all of his strength to get his breathing back under control, and not to simply recede into himself.

*             *             *             *             *

Finally, Pomfrey approached the two Slytherins, and came around to Draco’s side of the bed where he was now huddled onto the floor. Without a word she took his hand and hauled him up, and then steered him to a bed that was one away from Potter’s.

Even though the curtains were drawn on Potter’s bed, all Draco could do was stare at it. Pomfrey gently pushed him down so he was sitting on the bed, and she began casting diagnostic spells on him. She then gave him a calming drought, followed by another potion he couldn’t quite identify. He drank it anyway, and immediately felt warmth spreading through him. He hadn’t realized how cold and clammy he’d been. Slowly, the trembling stopped as well and he found he could breathe much more easily.

“Are you still nauseous? I can give you something for that, too,” the Healer offered.

Draco just shook his head. He still didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Very well. You’ve just had a panic attack, Mr. Malfoy. I’m keeping you here until dinner for observation. You may as well get some rest.” And with that, she was back to Potter’s bedside.

Sev had followed them to Draco’s new bed and silently watched as he was being treated. As soon as Pomfrey had left, he approached. “She’s right, Draco. I haven’t seen you this upset since- well. You should get some rest. I trust this was an accident?”

“Of course!” the blonde choked out. He was horrified that anyone could even _suggest_ that it wasn’t.

“Alright, relax. I believe you. But you would do well to remember that not many will. I do hope you have a reasonable explanation for why you were seen at the exact location that Potter fell from.”

Draco just bit his trembling lip and held his breath as Sev turned on his heel and swept from the hospital wing. Only when the door shut behind him did Draco let out the sob he’d been holding in.

*             *             *             *             *

_Madam Pomfrey’s POV_

 

The Malfoy boy was curled up in bed, sobbing when Minerva finally came to question him a half an hour before dinner. He’d been like that ever since Severus left.

Poppy approached his bed and informed him that the headmistress wished to discuss the events of that day with him. He simply nodded, and she could visibly see him pulling himself together.

She gave him another minute to compose himself before allowing Minerva to question him. After checking on Potter once more, she went back to her office, checking inventory on her supply of potions as she waited.

There was a knock to her door ten minutes later. Poppy let Minerva in and they sat, facing each other across Poppy’s desk.

“He says it was an accident. They had gotten into a physical altercation, Potter was charging Malfoy, and so Malfoy dodged the blow. Potter’s momentum took him right over the threshold.” Minerva sighed, her lips tightening into a thin line.

“There was evidence to support that, yes. They each had minor injuries caused by a fist fight,” Poppy supplied.

“Ah. So you are inclined to believe Malfoy’s story?”

“At least in some capacity, yes. Of course, he may be downplaying the details of the fight a tad, but I don’t believe Malfoy would intentionally push Potter. If he didn’t make any attempts on Potter’s life during the _war_ , then I daresay he wouldn’t now.”

“I suppose I must agree. I’m still obliged to punish the boy, however, seeing as he was caught fighting. I will not report him for breaking the terms of his probation, but I must ensure that he knows the seriousness of his actions.”

Poppy thought a moment. “I’ve already informed him of the worst of Potter’s condition. He was very worried and inquired, you see. I told him that Potter is currently a quadriplegic, and is in a potion-induced coma, as the healing process is so excruciating. He’s been in tears ever since.”

“Poppy! You disclosed Potter’s medical condition to Malfoy?”

“Only to scare him. Of course, I left out that he will only require being in a coma for the first night. In the morning, I’ll take him off of that particular potion so he can reestablish his natural sleeping cycle. He’ll still have to be in a full body-bind to prevent any movements, however, as his spinal cord will be quite tricky to heal. But I fully expect him to make a full recovery. Anyway, back to the Malfoy boy. I also had to treat him for a panic attack when he first came in. I must say, the boy appears to be completely guilt-ridden and upset by this ordeal.”

“Your point, Poppy?” the headmistress asked, slightly exasperated.

“My point, Minerva, is that Malfoy seems to be much softer than he wishes to reveal. Perhaps it would be wise to show the boy leniency. He will only act out more if he thinks everyone is against him.”

“You’re a wise woman, Poppy,” Minerva said as she rose from her seat, a twinkle in her eye. “Please update me with any news on Potter’s condition.” And then she was gone.


	2. The Visits

_Hospital Wing: Day 1 After the Accident_

_Harry’s POV_

 

The first thing Harry became aware of was the pain. As he slowly emerged from the black nothingness that had been consuming him, he felt an overwhelmingly intense burning sensation coursing through his entire body. It originated in his back, right along his spine, and was emanating out to his extremities. He needed help, he needed to know where he was- But he couldn’t move. Or speak. Or even open his eyes. He was just beginning to panic when an alarm sounded, and Pomfrey made her presence known.

“Mr. Potter, it’s alright, please relax. I can see that your stress level is rising. That alarm you just heard was to tell me that you’re awake. Now, as I said, please relax. You are safe and on the road to recovery.”

Her voice was a welcome one. Harry almost wished he was capable of crying; he just had so many emotions bursting through him; relief being the main one. But also frustration, confusion, and anger. And pain. Can’t forget about the pain. He listened eagerly as she began to explain.

“At this time, you must remain in a full body-bind. That is why you cannot move or speak. You have sustained a significant injury to your spinal cord, which rendered you a quadriplegic. However, as long as you remain completely immobile as I continue your regimen of healing spells and potions, you will make a full recovery. The pain you are undoubtedly feeling is due to the potions. Do you remember your second year when you had to re-grow the bones in your arm?”

Oh, he remembered.

“Well. That was a walk in the park compared to this. I’m sorry Potter, but it’ll be a rough several days. I’ll give you potions for the pain, but only small doses I’m afraid. Too much and it’ll interfere with another potion that must be administered. A little pain is worth regaining the ability to _walk_ though, so buck up.”

_Shit._

“Anyway, I have several charms placed that will alert me when you are awake, when you are asleep, if your heart rate increases for any reason, such as stress, and when you require other bodily functions. I will allow you visitors during regular hours so that you don’t lose your mind of boredom, but I encourage you to get as much sleep as possible. I expect the worst of the pain will last several days, and hopefully after a week I’ll be able to slowly remove portions of the body-bind so that you may turn your head, sit up, move your arms, and so on.”

A week. Ok. He could do a week.

“Let’s see. What other questions might you have?” She paused to think.

Does everyone know what happened? Are they all talking about it? Do they think he fell, or do they know he was _pushed_? Was Malfoy bloody expelled like he should be? What about his classes? Will he be excused, or will the work just keep piling up? What happens if one of his visitors touches him? Will that cause his injury to become permanent? How long has he been unconscious? What did she mean, his bodily functions? He better not have to just- just _shit_ himself and then she’ll clean it up. Is that what she meant? How is he supposed to communicate? Does Pomfrey think he’ll be all well and peachy just lying here for a week, not capable of talking? She can’t even let him open his _eyes_?

“Hmm. No, I suppose that’s all. Rest up, Potter.”

_Brilliant._

Harry could hear her footsteps retreating as he lay there in misery. Like hell, he’ll be able to sleep. Not with this pain.

*             *             *             *             *

Ron and Hermione visited Harry during their free period before lunch. He only knew this because they told him. It was infuriating, not even knowing what the bloody time was unless someone thought to tell him. He had no idea how long he’d been lying there since Pomfrey left him alone.

Apparently the body-bind he was in allowed for others to touch him. He heard Pomfrey explain that right before Hermione half-laid on top of him to give him an awkward hug.

Well. That’s _one_ question answered.

The visit itself was a decent distraction, but he could only follow what they were saying half of the time. He kept losing focus because of the tiny, white-hot knives slicing him open repeatedly from the inside. After what had to be hours of nothing to keep him busy but the excruciating pain, he decided that that was the best description.

All too soon, his friends left and he was once again forced to endure with no distractions.

*             *             *             *             *

It was after dinner when Harry got another visitor. Pomfrey had actually started telling him the time of day and explaining what it was she was doing whenever she’d check on him or administer another potion. So, Harry knew it was after dinner.

The mystery visitor walked straight to Harry’s bed and sat in the chair, sliding it right up to the side of his bed. They remained silent, but Harry could hear their breathing becoming labored.

_Who is this?_

Harry was not in the mood. He wanted this person to make themself known and start talking. He could certainly use the distraction.

He heard his mystery visitor take in a sharp breath just as footsteps began approaching from the direction of Pomfrey’s office. The footsteps stopped abruptly as if something, or someone, startled her.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, her voice indeed sounding a bit surprised.

_Did she just say MALFOY?_

Pause.

The mystery visitor answered, and sure enough…

“Y-yes, Madam Pomfrey… I can go if you want, I mean I’m sure he wouldn’t want me here. I just…”

Harry was surprised to hear that Malfoy sounded nervous.

“Nonsense. It’s still regular visiting hours, and therefore you may visit whomever you like. Besides, it’s not as if he can object.”

Harry was outraged. Absolutely furious. She _knew_ he was awake, the old hag.

“Alright then. Er… Is it ok to um, to you know, t-touch him? I mean his hand or something, not- not anything inappropriate of course, or- or completely moving him around. Just for comfort…”

If Harry’s jaw could drop, it’d be on the floor. That slimy git better not touch him. Tell him no, Pomfrey, come on!

“Of course you may. Light touches such as hand holding, fixing his hair, rubbing his arm, even gentle hugs are ok. I have a very strong binding spell on him that will not allow for any mobility. Just don’t try to sit him up or anything and he’ll be just fine. It’s nice that you want to provide comfort,” she warmly replied.

_Traitor._

“I- I um… yeah. I just wanted to make sure…” was his enemy’s uncharacteristically nervous and timid response.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

And then the footsteps were headed back towards her office. The door clicked shut, and Harry knew he was alone with the ferret again.

_Fuck._

Malfoy sighed heavily, and then there was nothing for several minutes.

_Well. This is just lovely._

All of a sudden, there was a feather-light touch to the back of his hand. It lingered only for a moment before it was quickly removed. Accompanying the removal was a sharp intake of breath.

 _That’s right. Don’t you fucking touch me._ Harry just wanted him to _leave_. He couldn’t deal with this, not with this agonizing pain, too. It was too much. He wished he could- could- at least fucking _sigh_ or squeeze his eyes shut or _something_ to show his frustration. This was torture. And Malfoy wasn’t leaving.

 _No. The git was now_ crying _. What in the bloody hell was_ he _crying about?_

The quiet sobs were all that could be heard in the otherwise silent ward. Malfoy’s breathing was ragged and he was letting out sobs more and more often. After some time had passed, he even rested what Harry assumed was his arms and head on the bed next to Harry.

 _Fucking Merlin._ If Malfoy wanted a good cry, why not do it in _private_?

Luckily, the ferret didn’t stay much longer. Harry could hear him blow his nose, and then try to get his breathing under control. After another minute, he left.

_Good riddance._

A moment later, he heard Pomfrey exit her office and make her way over.

“Just running the usual tests. I see Malfoy’s visit increased your heart-rate slightly. Are you upset that I let him stay?” She paused to cast a few more spells. “I’ll have you know, Potter, that he is distraught over what happened to you. He nearly vomited all over my floor when you were first brought in. He had a panic attack, for Merlin’s sake. So I must ask you to go easy on him. He’s truly torn up about this.” She cast another spell, and then eased a potion down his throat. “You should also know that he thinks you are in a coma, which is likely why he felt secure enough to show you his… ah, _softer_ side. And yes, I have ways of monitoring you and your visitors without being in the room. That knowledge should only make you feel more secure; it is not my intent to invade your privacy.”

_Bloody hell._

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll only monitor you if your heart-rate increases. I have a feeling he’ll be back. Is that fair?” she asked.

Harry supposed that it was, not that he could respond.

“Yes, it is. Good. I’ll be back to check on you before curfew, which is in two hours.” And with that, she retreated back into her office.

So she was going to speak _for_ him now, was she? Answer her own questions and pretend _he_ had said them? _Fuck_ , he couldn’t wait to give her a piece of his mind.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 2_

_Harry’s POV_

 

Someone stormed into the hospital wing and practically threw themselves into the chair by Harry’s bed.

That certainly got Harry’s attention. There was a pause, and then-

“Stupid Potter,” the voice spat.

_Oh great. Malfoy._

 “This is all your fault.”

 _What??_ My _fault?_

“Why do you always have to start shit with me? You damn well _provoke_ me, you know that? I’m only human, it’s inevitable that I’m going to react, and you _know_ it. I’m on _probation._ P- R- O- B- A- T- I- O- N. Selfish twit. Maybe that’s your goal. Maybe you want me to start a fight so I can get shipped off to Azkaban. You’d like that, I bet.”

 _How many times does he have to explain that he_ doesn’t _want him to go to Azkaban? The stupid ferret can’t get that through his-_

Harry felt Malfoy punch his mattress, and then heard a sigh.

The brunette was… well _alarmed_ doesn’t quite do it justice. Was Malfoy going to _hit_ him? He couldn’t defend himself! _Shit shit shit._

“Why do you feel the need to get under my skin? Why can’t you just leave me alone? _Fuck!_ ”

 _Leave_ you _alone?_ You’re the one at _my_ bedside! Harry was getting more and more irate. This was just too much, he was still in blinding pain. Malfoy needed to _fuck off._

 “Piss off. Isn’t that your favorite thing to say to me? Well now it’s my turn to say it to you.”

Harry heard him stomping through the ward to the door, slamming it shut behind him.

_Oh yes, Pomfrey, Malfoy is a big softy. Fucking hell._

*             *             *             *             *

 

 

_Meanwhile, Draco’s POV_

 

Draco walked into the hospital wing- well ok, he _stormed_ into the hospital wing- and basically threw himself down in the chair by Potter’s bed. He was seething. He had been hexed, and yelled at, and shoved all day. All because people blamed him for Potter’s accident.

 _Well… he_ did _push him…_

That wasn’t the _point._ Potter started it. He always starts it.

“Stupid Potter,” he spat. “This is all your fault.” He crossed his arms and glared at the statuesque boy in front of him. “Why do you always have to start shit with me? You damn well _provoke_ me, you know that? I’m only human, it’s inevitable that I’m going to react, and you _know_ it. I’m on _probation._ P- R- O- B- A- T- I- O- N. Selfish twit. Maybe that’s your goal. Maybe you want me to start a fight so I can get shipped off to Azkaban. You’d like that, I bet.”

Draco could feel the rage building. He had to stop his rant, he was getting too worked up. He punched Potter’s mattress. It didn’t help. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and covered his face for a moment. He then crossed them again as he sneered at the comatose boy.

“Why do you feel the need to get under my skin? Why can’t you just leave me alone? _Fuck!_ ”

He took a few calming breaths. This was pointless, it wasn’t making him feel any better.

“Piss off. Isn’t that your favorite thing to say to me? Well now it’s my turn to say it to you.”

He got up and stomped through the ward to the door, slamming it shut behind him. _Well. That was a total waste of time._

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 3_

_Harry’s POV_

 

After quite a long analysis, Harry had just decided on a new description of the level of pain he was experiencing (torches being lit at the base of his spine and radiating upwards and out, slowing easing as just the burning smoke spread to his outer extremities) when the door to the hospital wing opened. He knew it wasn’t Ron and Hermione- they had been to see him earlier. Maybe Ginny? Nah, they haven’t been on speaking terms since their break-up. Dean and Seamus? It could be Neville and Luna… _Please, anyone but Malfoy._

The visitor sat heavily in the chair beside Harry’s bed and slid forward.

Pause.

A very long pause.

“Fuck, Potter,” was the quiet, yet unmistakable voice of Malfoy.

_So much for wishful thinking._

Harry didn’t mind a distraction by any means, no. One was welcome. However, _this_ was not the type of distraction he needed. He wanted to roll his eyes. That would feel _so_ good right now. _Bugger._

There was a light brushing of fingertips over the back of his hand. They lingered momentarily, and just when Harry thought the ferret would withdraw them, they tightened.

 _Wait. Is Malfoy_ holding _my_ hand _?_

He was. The git was holding his hand.

Malfoy sighed. And then moved his hand around Harry’s, palm up so that their palms were sort of, awkwardly pressed together.

Was he trying to _actually_ hold hands now? The proper way? _What in the bloody hell…_

After another moment, the awkwardness of the angle must have gotten to the git, for he then moved his hand away altogether.

Only when the touch was gone did Harry realize that it was actually a nice distraction from the pain. It was gentle- the opposite of the billowing flames currently dancing inside him.

Harry was startled when that touch returned, but this time the light fingertips began by his elbow and slowly trailed upwards, all the way to his shoulder before making their way down again. They followed this pattern, and with each pass increased their pressure a bit more until finally it almost felt like a massage.

It was relaxing. Harry focused on the feel of those fingers on his arm and tried to block out everything else.

The hand rubbing his arm gently pulled away as its owner released another sigh.

Immediately, it was like the fire roared to life inside him and shot straight into his arm, filling the void that Malfoy’s gentle touch left in its wake. It was pure agony. Harry would’ve given anything for Malfoy to keep going, _anything._ He wished he could release the sob that was stuck in his lungs.

Then Malfoy brushed his hair back from his face.

Once again, the touch startled him, but it was in the best possible way. He _needed_ this.

The Slytherin kept his fingers in Harry’s hair, gently running them through the unruly, yet soft locks. His hand moved down the side of his head slowly, and then softly cupped his cheek.

That was when Harry realized that Malfoy had moved much closer. He had to be no more than six inches away- he could practically feel his breath on his skin.

Harry wished he could lean into the touch. He knew this was Malfoy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. It was comforting.

The blonde lingered there for a minute, his thumb stroking Harry’s cheekbone. He almost seemed… hesitant somehow. Then, all too soon, he pulled away as he whispered, “Fuck.” He slid the chair back and briskly walked out of the hospital wing.

Harry was left feeling empty, confused, and in an agonizing amount of pain.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 4_

_Harry’s POV_

 

All day, Harry had been thinking about Malfoy’s visit the night before. He couldn’t quite believe that he had enjoyed it so much. It was like a weird, distant dream that just didn’t seem real or feasible. _He actually_ liked _Malfoy being affectionate._ No way. Nope. He didn’t. He was just sort of blinded by the intense pain. _Anything_ would have felt nice in comparison. _Yeah_. That was all.

These thoughts kept circling through his head all day. When finally the blonde showed up for his apparently daily visit, Harry was dreading it even more than he had before.

The chair sliding up to the bed made Harry internally cringe. He really didn’t want to know how he would react to more of… of… whatever that was last night.

“Potter,” was the quiet greeting.

There was a pause, and then he heard his rival shift his weight in the chair.

“Listen, I… I didn’t really mean what I said the other day. About the accident being your fault, that is. I just get defensive when- well.” He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “It’s just hard. Knowing you… _hate_ me. But I should be well accustomed to that by now. I shouldn’t let you get under my skin.”

Harry was incredulous. _Was this a joke?_ He had no idea what Malfoy was talking about. Obviously it wasn’t Harry’s fault- he was _pushed_.

“What I _should_ do is just stay away from you.”

_Merlin! We agree on something!_

“Fucking hell,” Malfoy sighed. “I wish I _could_ stay away. You’re a detriment to my health, you are. But you’re like a bloody magnet that I just can’t resist.”

Harry was getting _really_ annoyed. He kept getting harassed by Malfoy because the git- what, thought it was so funny he couldn’t resist? _Great._ He thought they just didn’t get along because they had completely different views about things and because the ferret was an arse. But no, apparently it’s just _fun_ to mess with him. The brunette could hear blood starting to pound in his ears, he was getting so angry.

“I just need to exercise my willpower, that’s all. You’re off-limits.” Malfoy sighed heavily again. “I’ll probably never get the chance to tell you to your face, but I hope you know that I _am_ sorry. I hate when things escalate to that degree between us, and I hate that I put you here… I’ll do us both a favor and keep my distance from now on; save us both some heartache.”

Malfoy was quiet as Harry stewed. The brunette couldn’t even comprehend how his unwanted visitor could ever think he’d forgive him. He’s bloody _paralyzed_ for Merlin’s sake! Only temporarily, but still! There was no way. If the git ever tried to apologize in person Harry would laugh in his face.

There was a warm pressure on his hand then- the git was holding his hand again. _Ugh_.

Before Harry could really start in on his internal rant though, the pressure was removed, and the sound of footsteps getting quieter and more distant filled the room until the door shut with a loud ‘click.’

Relief was all Harry could feel then. He hadn’t been manipulated into _enjoying_ anything Malfoy did, and the ferret left after minimal contact.

_Good._

Harry sincerely hoped that that was the last visit from his rival.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 5_

_Draco’s POV_

 

Draco had been worried all day. It had now been five days since Potter was first allowed visitors in the hospital wing; six since the accident. Why wasn’t he getting any better? He had never heard of anyone being in a coma for that long, at least not in a magical coma. Pomfrey could heal bones overnight!

 _What the bloody fuck was taking so long?_ Unless… there was a complication of some kind…

Draco quickly made his way to the hospital wing much earlier than usual. He couldn’t wait. By the time he arrived, he was shaking.

He pushed the heavy doors open and started towards Potter’s bed when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The Weaslette was leaning over Potter, kissing him on the cheek. She then rose and made her way to the door- to where Draco was standing, frozen to the spot.

She stopped in front of him, pinning him with a look of pure contempt. “Malfoy. You pathetic, slimy little _coward_. Leave Harry alone! You’ve done enough damage!”

Draco’s throat tightened and he just stood there, unable to reply.

The Weaslette didn’t wait for one anyway. She pushed past him and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving the blonde alone in the almost-empty ward.

Now shaking uncontrollably, Draco slowly crossed the room and sat by the only occupied bed. He just sat for a few moments watching the motionless figure in front of him, his mind buzzing.

Finally, all the thoughts spiraling around in his head seemed to sort out into one coherent, but miserable message; Potter wasn’t getting any better, and it was all Draco’s fault.

He broke.

The tears began to fall and his breathing was becoming ragged and uneven. The blonde reached out and gripped the warm, but stone-like hand tightly while he buried his face in the mattress. Within a minute, he was crying in earnest, the sobs ripping through him at regular intervals.

“P-Please,” he choked out. “Please wake up.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to speak any louder.

Draco didn’t know what he would do if Potter didn’t wake up. Or… or if he _did_ wake up, but remained paralyzed.

_Oh my god…_

The blonde just cried for what seemed like hours, squeezing the hand that wouldn’t grip back.

Finally the tears began to subside, and he could breathe a bit easier. He sat up, but wouldn’t let go of Potter’s hand. It was like a lifeline.

“You’re going to be ok. You have to be…” Draco was more trying to comfort himself than Potter. If only he believed his own words. “Please be ok… _Fuck_. Potter, I swear, if you wake up- I mean _when_ you wake up… when you wake up perfectly healthy, and _not_ paralyzed… I swear I’ll treat you the way I should. I’ll- I’ll treat you the way you should be treated. Just- just _please_ … Please be ok.”

The blonde caressed Potter’s hand for another moment before finally letting go so he could wipe his streaming eyes. He looked up at Potter’s face, and to his annoyance, he found a lipstick mark on his cheek. He felt his eyes sting again, but swallowed the lump in his throat as he wiped the mark off Potter’s face. His hand lingered there for a moment before he forced himself to pull it away.

_Who was she to claim him? The last he heard, Potter had broken things off. Clingy bint._

The blonde took a few more deep breaths. Once he was finally composed, he left the hospital wing feeling shattered and heartbroken.

*             *             *             *             *

_Meanwhile, Harry’s POV_

 

It had been about an hour, by Harry’s guess, since Pomfrey had checked on him and forced down the usual potions. The pain was still there, but it was a much lesser degree than what it had been previous days. It was bearable now.

Harry was just starting to mentally go through the material from his last few lessons when he heard the door creek open and footsteps getting closer.

 _Hmm. Malfoy was_ very _early today._ He internally rolled his eyes; these visits were getting tiresome.

Malfoy sat lightly in the chair and gasped, high-pitched and breathy. Then there was a dainty, slightly chilled hand holding his cheek…

_What?_

“Oh, Harry!” the _female_ voice cracked as she stroked his cheek.

_Oh… It’s Ginny… Ugh, that’s not any better._

“Harry, I know we’re not together, but I just can’t _stand_ seeing you like this!”

_Please don’t. Come on, Gin._

“This has really opened my eyes… I took you for granted before. When you’re better, I won’t make that mistake again. Maybe we can start over…” She moved her hand up into his hair and gently stroked the locks.

It was too gentle.

Harry didn’t want to give things another try. He had ended things with her because- because… well, it just didn’t _feel_ right. Just like these caresses didn’t feel right. They were much too soft and delicate. What, did she think a light stroke across his cheek would be the thing to do him in? _Merlin._

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t shut me out when you’re better. I want us to work. I know we can. And I’ll always put you first from now on. So… please, just rest up and get better.”

 _Ugh._ The thought made him… just… cringe. Or _want_ to cringe, anyway. It’s not that he didn’t love her- he’d always love her… But it was in a more brotherly sort of way. He certainly didn’t want them to work as a couple. Nope. He was done with that.

The door opened just as he felt a pair of heavily glossed lips press against his cheek. He _hated_ it when she did that. He could feel the gloss left behind as she straightened. _Great._

Her footsteps loudly clicked along the hard floor with purpose, until suddenly they stopped.

“Malfoy. You pathetic, slimy little _coward_. Leave Harry alone! You’ve done enough damage!”

_Oh god…_

The door slammed shut, and after a pause, slow footsteps approached and Malfoy (he hoped it was Malfoy this time anyway) sat in the chair by his bed.

There were several minutes of just _nothing_ before finally, Harry’s hand was being squeezed. He could hear ragged, uneven breathing, and he was fairly certain that Malfoy was also resting his head on the bed. He wasn’t letting go of his hand…

Harry wished he could sigh or something. He wasn’t in the mood, not after Ginny’s visit.

Within a minute, Malfoy was crying in earnest, the sobs ripping through him at regular intervals. _Bloody hell._

“P-Please,” he choked out. “Please wake up.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

The blonde just cried for- it had to have been at least ten minutes straight, just squeezing his hand.

Malfoy really must feel guilty… Maybe Pomfrey was serious when she told him he was really broken up about this. It certainly seemed like he was… But… it’s _Malfoy_ …

His visitor’s breathing evened out a bit, but he still gripped Harry’s hand.

“You’re going to be ok. You have to be…” _It also seemed as though Pomfrey really_ didn’t _tell him that he wasn’t actually in a coma, and that he’ll be perfectly fine._ “Please be ok… _Fuck_. Potter, I swear, if you wake up- I mean _when_ you wake up… when you wake up perfectly healthy, and _not_ paralyzed… I swear I’ll treat you the way I should. I’ll- I’ll treat you the way you should be treated. Just- just _please_ … Please be ok.”

What did he mean by that? _He’ll treat me the way I should be treated?_ What, he won’t be a git anymore?

He felt a caress to his hand for another moment before it pulled away.

Immediately, Harry realized that he hadn’t minded Malfoy’s touch nearly as much as he’d minded Ginny’s… In fact, Malfoy’s touch felt… well, strong, and- and _nice_ , even. _What am I thinking?_

After a pause, he felt those firm fingers wipe the mark that Ginny’s lip gloss made off his face. _Thank god._ The hand lingered there for a moment before it disappeared. Harry wished it had lingered longer. _Wait, what?_

His visitor took several deep breaths before leaving the hospital wing.

Once he was gone, Harry was left feeling- well, _confused._ He had enjoyed Malfoy’s visit… Malfoy’s _touch_ … far more than Ginny’s.

Well, Harry just needed some time away from Ginny. They had just broken up, so naturally he’d enjoy someone else’s company over hers… And as for their touches… Ginny was always far too gentle and delicate. Malfoy’s was just a nice contrast. It could’ve been anyone, as long as it was firm, and strong, and decisive. It was the opposite of Ginny, which is what he craved. So it happened to be Malfoy. So what?

But that comment…

_‘I’ll treat you the way you should be treated.’_

Harry still didn’t know what that meant. Clearly Malfoy was upset that he was so badly injured and thinks there’s a chance he won’t get better. But now he’s making promises? _Why?_ It just didn’t make sense.

Harry pondered over this for the rest of the evening, but to no avail. That night, he dreamt of strong arms encircling him in a firm embrace and sweet promises made by a faceless, blurry image of a man.


	3. The Confessions

_Day 6_

_Harry’s POV_

 

Harry awoke the next morning feeling completely wrung out. He- he felt… _weird._ As his head slowly began to clear itself of the usual morning fog, he was suddenly struck by two thoughts- well, more like punched in the gut by them.

One: he had dreamt of a strong man hugging him… _caressing_ him… leaning in so close he was just an inch away from pressing smooth, dry lips against his own. And two: Harry was turned on by it. But… but his body just couldn’t _respond_ like it normally would because of this stupid body-bind, so instead it felt weird. Like the sensations were pooling in his lower stomach with nowhere to go.

 _Fuck_ this was frustrating. And messed up. Yeah, definitely messed up. He had a wet dream involving another _man_ , but couldn’t even do anything about it. What the bloody _fuck._

He wasn’t even going to try to analyze the whole _man_ part of it. That was just too much. Nope, not going there.

When Pomfrey came in to check on him, she cast an additional spell along with the usual ones. This one suppressed his libido, much to Harry’s embarrassment… and relief.

*             *             *             *             *

Luckily Harry had quite a few distractions that day seeing as it was the weekend. Ron and Hermione came of course. They each spent an hour or so with him, overlapping about fifteen minutes in between. Ron told him about the new broom that just came out and how amazing it looked during his hour. Once he left, Hermione read several chapters from their textbooks to him, so that he could ‘catch right up’ and not miss as much work.

Harry had to internally roll his eyes at her, but he knew she was trying. Even though he drifted about five minutes into her reading, he still appreciated the effort.

After lunch, he got a visit from several girls who Harry didn’t recognize the voices of. They didn’t bother telling him their names either. _Ugh._ They had to have been in fifth year or younger. All they seemed to be interested in was providing him ‘comfort,’ and fake-crying that they couldn’t believe their ‘hero’ could ever end up like this.

Harry wanted to vomit.

Thank god Dean and Seamus came soon after and told them off. Once the girls left, his mates told him about the rumors going around; how Malfoy pushed him, and if McGonagall wanted she could send him off to Azkaban. They also told him that Malfoy was seen visiting, and that Harry should watch his back, in case the git decides to finish him off.

This made the brunette want to growl. Malfoy had been nothing but nice! He was _torn up_ over what happened. Harry couldn’t _wait_ until he was able to at least talk. Then he’d set everyone straight.

By the time his friends left, Harry was seething. It wasn’t until much later that he realized that he had been mentally defending Malfoy.

*             *             *             *             *

After dinner was when the Slytherin finally came to visit. Harry knew it was inevitable. He was almost- _almost-_ looking forward to it. But not because it was Malfoy. No. It was because the blonde never treated him like some hero. He treated him like a bloke who was injured, and who he wanted to visit. And he wasn’t some girl fawning over him, either.

So when he heard the door creek open and light footsteps make their way over to the usual chair beside his bed and slide it forward, Harry was content.

He heard a quiet sigh, and then a warm, firm hand gripped his own for several moments before pulling away.

Now _that_ was good hand holding. Not some wimpy, light contact of fingers, like what Ginny would do.

The hand was back, but this time it moved from his wrist, up his forearm, and then higher to his bicep. There it stayed, rubbing small circles into the muscle.

It felt… nice. Objectively speaking, of course. If he was to compare this to the average girl’s caresses, this definitely took the cake.

Another sigh. 

The warm hand glided upwards (even _gliding_ was still more firm than any girl!) across his shoulder, up his neck, and then into his hair. The strong fingers entangled themselves in the soft locks and just held on tightly. It was a nice sensation- it was definitely pulling his hair a bit, but not enough to hurt. It was perfect. Well, it was perfect for playing with hair that is, not- not perfect for any other reason.

After a minute, Harry was just wondering if his visitor was going to do anything else, or just sit there with his fingers tangled in hair, when Malfoy released the locks and simply started petting his hair instead.

 _Hmm_. No one had ever _pet_ him before. It wasn’t unpleasant.

This continued as the blonde started to speak. “I’m being reckless,” he said quietly.

_What, petting my hair?_

“I shouldn’t visit you _every_ night… Someone’s bound to notice eventually.”

Yes, well that seems to have already happened, according to Dean and Seamus. Harry would defend him once he’s better- let everyone know Malfoy was visiting with good intentions.

“I just can’t stay away…” he whispered.

The hand moved down and cupped Harry’s cheek, the thumb stroking gently.

Alright, so men could be gentle. But it was a different _kind_ of gentle. It was still better than girls.

“But shit, someone’s going to notice. Or walk in at a time like this when I’m- when I’m expressing… well. It’s a good thing your bed is so far from the door. I’ll have plenty of time to get away if someone ever came in during...” he trailed off.

The warm thumb was still stroking. This was really comforting. Harry almost wished Malfoy would hug him. _Wait, no, too far…_

“ _Fuck_ , you’re addicting. No one better walk in on any of my visits, because it would be _so_ obvious…”

_What would be so obvious? What’s he talking about?_

Malfoy slowly moved his hand down Harry’s face. He gripped the brunette’s chin, his thumb running over his bottom lip on the way down.

Harry felt a rush surge through him at the touch. No one had ever done that, and it was… it was… well, _good._ Flashes from his dream were invading his mind, adding to the sensations stirring within him.

“Merlin, I can’t let anyone find out I fancy you, but I just can’t resist.”

The firm fingers were stroking his jaw now, and it was-

- _Wait._ What _did he just say??_ Whatever was ‘stirring’ within the brunette came to an abrupt halt. He _couldn’t_ have heard properly.

“I’ll just- I’ll just start talking more when I’m here. It might look a bit odd if I’m just sitting here, looking at you all puppy-eyed,” he chuckled softly.

If Harry could gape like a fish, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, he would be doing just that.

“Would a kiss be too much?” Malfoy breathed.

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._ Harry could feel hot breath against his skin… The Slytherin must be mere inches away…

Malfoy took in a sharp breath and pulled away, tender hand and all. “No… not without permission…”

Harry barely heard him, it was spoken so softly.

“Until tomorrow then. I’ll have to come up with some good stories for you,” the blonde said, and Harry could hear his smile.

With that, Malfoy rose and left the hospital wing.

 _Well. That was… well._ Honestly, Harry didn’t know what that was. He was absolutely shocked.

 _Malfoy fancies me_. _What. The. Fuck._

This didn’t make any sense… Malfoy was his rival, his nemesis… He _couldn’t_ … But he does. He admitted it himself. Why would he do that?

_He thinks I’m in a coma._

_Shit._

_So it must be true then._

_Malfoy fancies me._

_Malfoy._ Fancies _me._

_As in, Malfoy has romantic feelings for me._

_Shit_.

_Alright._

After repeating this mantra for most of the evening, it finally sunk in. And it did make sense.

Malfoy said he’s always been drawn to Harry like a magnet and couldn’t resist. The brunette had misinterpreted this at the time, taking it to mean he couldn’t resist tormenting him. Now, however, he knew otherwise. Malfoy couldn’t resist gravitating towards Harry, the one he liked.

And this did explain why he was so upset over this whole accident and why he’d been crying so much. He basically paralyzed his crush. Harry supposed that would be upsetting.

This also explained why Malfoy’d been… so _affectionate._ He thought Harry was in a coma, and therefore wouldn’t be aware of it. So he took advantage and _groped_ him all he wanted.

_Stupid ferret._

How could Harry have enjoyed that? It was completely- just- it wasn’t… it… alright, it was _nice_. And it wasn’t as if Malfoy had touched him inappropriately or anything. It was completely innocent and affectionate.

And Harry had liked it… In fact, for a moment there, he thought Malfoy was going to kiss him, and he was reminded strongly of his wet dream the previous night.

_Shit shit shit._

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 7_

_Harry’s POV_

 

The only problem with not being in any more pain was that now Harry was hyperaware of what the rest of his body was feeling.

He had a pretty rough night. He woke early from another, much more vivid wet dream that would ordinarily make his toes curl.

_Fucking stupid body-bind!_

He wanted to cry, he was so wound up and helpless to find relief. He wasn’t even embarrassed when Pomfrey gave him that potion again.

At least his dream was still of a faceless man though, and not Malfoy. He took that as a win.

*             *             *             *             *

When the blonde came to visit that night, Harry was metaphorically _shaking_ with anticipation. He didn’t know what to think now. His ‘rival’ actually fancied him. How does one act once they find out something like that? He just didn’t know. And he now had no idea what to expect from Malfoy, either. He was quite nervous.

Malfoy took his usual seat, slid it forward, and took Harry’s hand. It was now almost a routine. Even so, Harry’s stomach did a cartwheel.

“So, Potter. I’ve decided to start with my darker side. There’s a lot that I regret, believe it or not. A lot that bothers me…” He trailed off as he placed his other hand on top of Harry’s, joining the first. He started gently massaging the brunette’s hand with both of his as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

Harry just tried to focus on the words, and not how the skin contact sent shivers up his spine.

Malfoy sighed. “I’ve done things… that I hate. I can’t stand that I was responsible for… that I…”

Another sigh. “All I wanted was to please my father. He always went on about how I had to make him proud, how I had to be the perfect Malfoy heir and live up to the name. I see now that he essentially just fed me lies about the world and bred me to be a Death Eater.”

Harry heard him shudder. The hand massage paused momentarily before it started back up.

“‘The Dark Lord is merciful,’ my arse. He set me up to fail so that he would have an excuse to kill me. Just to punish my father. He wanted to kill _me,_ a pureblood. For someone else’s mistake. That’s when I really knew it was all bollocks and that the Dark Lord was insane. But by then, it was too late.”

The hand massage stopped altogether, but the hands remained, resting on top of Harry’s. Malfoy must be lost in thought. Harry was honestly surprised he felt that way. He had no idea the blonde had changed his mind about that.

“I hate my Dark Mark,” he whispered, squeezing Harry’s hand a bit tighter. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve researched every possible branch of magic, I’ve tried burning it off… I took a knife and cut through it repeatedly until I passed out… Nothing will get it _off_. Sev finally had to slap some sense into me so I’d stop trying. I was really only torturing myself.”

 _Shit._ Harry was- well, shocked seemed to be an understatement.

“I wish I had made better choices. Thought for myself, and not let someone else fill my head with ideas. I should have asked for help- asked Dumbledoor, asked _you_. Swallow my pride for once…”

There was a sharp intake of breath and the hands tightened even more.

“I hate this. Sometimes I really hate myself. I’m seeing a Healer, I know I was coerced and underage and all that rubbish, it’s just hard to think that way sometimes. I have nightmares nearly every night… I- I try to move forward, but I’ll never be acquitted in the public’s eye, even if I was legally. I’ll always be a Death Eater to them. How do I move on from that? How do I rebuild my life?”

Malfoy’s voice cracked at the end and he removed his hands from Harry’s. The brunette thought he heard muffled sobs. Malfoy was probably covering his face with his hands.

Harry just- he didn’t know what to think. He was grateful that he wasn’t expected to comfort the Slytherin; he was terrible at that sort of thing. However, he couldn’t help feeling incredibly sorry for Malfoy. He hadn’t exactly thought of what it must be like to regret everything but not be given a chance.

A minute later, the blonde took a shuddering breath. He must have moved his hands away from his face.

“That’s why my crush on you is so pathetic. You’d never feel the same way, even if you _were_ into blokes. I’m pathetic,” Malfoy whimpered.

Harry’s hand was being tightly squeezed again as the mattress dipped slightly. Malfoy’s sobs became louder, but muffled. He must’ve buried his face in the mattress.

The brunette couldn’t help feeling guilty that he was able to hear all of this without Malfoy’s knowledge. He knew for a fact that the blonde would be mortified if he knew.

The mattress sprang back into place as Malfoy straightened. He seemed to have gotten most of his crying under control. There was only the occasional sniffle now.

The hand gripping Harry’s loosened, and then moved up, all the way along his arm to his shoulder, before it broke contact momentarily. It touched down again in Harry’s hair, fingers running through it tenderly, but firmly.

Harry loved it. He tried not to read too much into that just then, but simply enjoy it while it lasted.

“Fuck, sorry Potter. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. You’ve got your own problems,” Malfoy gave a watery chuckle that Harry could just _tell_ didn’t reach his eyes.

“I think that’ll do for one night.”

The hand trailed down to Harry’s cheek, cupping it momentarily, before the thumb dragged down his bottom lip, and then pulled away altogether.

Harry wanted to whimper.

“Sleep tight, Potter.”

And then Malfoy was gone.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 8_

_Harry’s POV_

 

Harry had never been more conflicted in his entire life. He was starting to think that maybe… maybe he was…

 _No._ He couldn’t say it. It just wasn’t plausible. He had been in love with Ginny. And he had that crush on Cho. There’s no way he was…

But his latest dream kept popping into his head. The one with the faceless man caressing him, hands moving lower and lower as he kissed him, the white-blonde hair falling over his piercing, gray eyes as he ran porcelain fingers through black, unruly locks.

_Oh fucking hell._

*             *             *             *             *

Harry was not looking forward to this visit. He internally cringed when he heard the footsteps approaching, then the chair sliding forward. His stomach was doing somersaults.

He felt a warm finger trail up his bicep before the whole hand cupped his cheek, but only for a moment. It then moved up and smoothed his hair back out of his face, the thumb rubbing his temple.

Harry would’ve shuddered if he could.

“I thought maybe today I’d be a bit more light-hearted,” Malfoy started. “You really don’t know much about me, I don’t think. So, here it goes…”

The blonde moved his hand down Harry’s cheek, down the length of his arm, and gripped his hand. It was difficult for Harry not to lose himself in the sensations. All of his nerve endings were thrumming in delight. Much to his discomfort.

“You know that I enjoy playing Quidditch. But what you may not know is that I love to fly. Being in the air is such a thrilling… _freeing_ experience. It’s one of the only places where I actually feel like I have some semblance of control. It wasn’t just about our rivalry. I would’ve given anything to be on the Slytherin team even if you weren’t already on yours.”

There was a sigh as Malfoy drew circles on Harry’s hand.

“Although, you being on your team was definitely an added bonus. It gave me something nice to look at while searching for the snitch.” The blonde chuckled at his own comment, and it was such a warm, happy-sounding laugh.

Harry didn’t think he ever heard a genuine laugh like that from Malfoy before. The sound caused his heart to skip a beat- and that was before he even realized that he had been complimented.

“Let’s see, what else? I really like to draw. I’m not very good, but it’s fun… relaxing. It forces me to focus, and when I finish a piece, it’s like I’ve met a goal or something… That’s what my Healer says, anyway. I don’t know. I stick with it though. I like the distraction from other… unpleasantries.”

The fingers were now drawing indiscernible patterns onto Harry’s forearm. It was oddly intimate. The brunette wished he could see Malfoy’s face. He was probably smiling, and Harry wanted desperately to be able to see that.

“I tried to draw _you_ once. It took me ages, and I still wasn’t happy with the end result. I just couldn’t capture the passion in your expression or the depth in your eyes.  You’re too… imperfectly perfect.”

Harry was downright swooning now.

_Wait- no no no no no, definitely not swooning. It was just flattering… Yeah._

“Anyway…” Malfoy trailed off as he gripped Harry’s hand once more.

The brunette could hear the smile in his voice again. It was captivating.

“I love flying, and I enjoy drawing, but I think what I’d really like to do is become a Potions Master. The theory of potion-making is so intriguing, so- so mind-stimulating. And it’s still evolving. New discoveries are being made constantly; new antidotes or new effects from different combinations. It’s fascinating. I think I could help people… make a difference… Sev has already offered me a part-time apprenticeship next year. I just have to prove myself… Prove I won’t just poison everything or something…”

The blonde continued musing over his possible future career as Harry happily listened to his enthusiasm.

After what must have been nearly an hour, Malfoy seemed to have talked himself out. He quietly sighed every now and then, and gently stroked Harry’s hand, or his cheek, or his hair. It was nice. Harry couldn’t help the warmth that was radiating throughout his body. Every new touch was a delicious surprise, and sent different nerve endings ablaze.

Far too soon for Harry’s liking, Malfoy pulled away with a promise to visit tomorrow, and he was left alone, perplexing thoughts swirling through his head.

That visit had been such a nice contrast to their usual interactions, he almost couldn’t believe that this warm, tender, passionate and remorseful person was the same bloke who broke his nose and tried to get Buckbeak killed. If this was what was under that Slytherin mask, then Harry wanted to dig deeper.


	4. The Consequences

_Day 9_

_Harry’s POV_

 

Harry was woken from his nap by the sound of a heavy door clicking shut and soft footsteps making their way closer to where he lay, immobile once again.

Pomfrey had finally lifted the bind on Harry’s head, vocal chords and arms (below the elbow)that morning, and did so periodically throughout the rest of the day to slowly introduce him to movement again. It was important to systematically increase his mobility over the next few days rather than give it all at once, according to the Healer. Apparently it could shock his newly rebuilt nervous system if everything was able to move around at once, or something.

Once Pomfrey finished her morning routine caring for the brunette, she informed him of all of this, and then partially lifted the bind.

He spent the morning yelling at her.

Pomfrey had lifted the bind in that way several more times throughout the day, and after the last one after lunch, he was completely wiped. He immediately fell asleep until his favorite visitor ( _wait… since when had he become his favorite?)_ made an appearance.

 The footsteps drew nearer until they were right next to Harry’s bed. The visitor pulled the chair closer and sat with a gentle sigh.

That firm, perfect hand gripped Harry’s, running its thumb over the knuckles in soothing strokes. Just a moment later, the office door opened and brisk footsteps approached, causing the hand to immediately retreat.

“Malfoy. I trust you are still doing well?” asked Pomfrey.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just um, visiting…” Malfoy answered a bit awkwardly.

“Ah. I think you’d be interested to know that Potter is doing quite well. In fact, he is healed enough for me to wake him up and lift portions of the body-bind so that he can at least speak. I’ve done so a handful of times today.”

“What? Really? That’s fantastic! I mean, good. Very good.” The blonde was trying, and failing, to conceal his excitement over this news. It warmed Harry to the core.

“Yes,” Pomfrey chuckled. “Would you like me to wake him so you can speak with him?”

Pause.

 _Yes, Malfoy, let me talk to you._ Harry had so much he wanted to say to his… rival? No, not rival really. What was he now? Acquaintance? …Friend?

“Oh. Er… I- no. No no no, I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready, I- I mean, he hates me. He won’t understand why I’ve been visiting.”

All of a sudden, it was like Harry’s stomach turned to stone.

“I think you’d be surprised. He is aware of your visits,” she hinted.

 _Cunning, Pomfrey._ Harry would wager that the Healer must have been in Slytherin.

“He what? He knows I’ve been visiting? I- um, I mean, how did he react to that?” Malfoy sounded quite nervous.

Pomfrey paused a moment. _Probably trying to think of a good lie._

“He was a bit upset that I allowed it at first I think, but then he softened to the idea. You never attempted to harm him, and I told him that you’re stance is apologetic. I daresay he’s alright with it. You should talk to him.”

_Oh, yes. Definitely a Slytherin._

Malfoy took a deep breath and released it slowly before answering. “I… still don’t think I’m up for that. I’m sure he still hates me even if he is alright with me visiting. I doubt he wants me as one of his first visitors when he’s finally awake.”

The blonde seemed completely defeated and… maybe even depressed.

Harry’s insides were churning and tightening unpleasantly. _Please, no, just talk to me!_ He realized then that hate was the last thing he felt for his ex-rival anymore. That thought should have surprised him, but it didn’t. He honestly couldn’t fathom hating this- this good-hearted, decent, misunderstood softy.

“Very well. I’ll give you some privacy. Just knock on my door if you change your mind.”

Her footsteps echoed around the ward as she made her way to her office, the door clicking shut behind her.

A moment passed before Malfoy let out a deep sigh and-

_He’s hugging me._

Harry felt the bed dip by his side closest to Malfoy, and then an arm gently rest across his chest, the hand stroking his opposite arm. And then- then Malfoy’s head rested in the crook of his neck.

 _Bloody hell._ The affectionate git was cuddling him. Harry’s insides immediately relaxed and melted at the touch of his… his… um. _Shit._

“You’re going to be ok,” the blonde breathed.

If Harry could squeal, he would have. He felt the warm breath against his neck at Malfoy’s words and it …did _things_ to him.

The blonde nuzzled his neck with his nose before placing a gentle, chaste kiss to it.

Harry internally whimpered.

“This may be one of my last visits if you’re almost better. _Fuck_ , I wish I could do this whenever I wanted… with you reciprocating,” he mumbled against Harry’s neck.

The brunette couldn’t think straight. His stomach was churning again, but now it was from all the damn butterflies that just wouldn’t stop dancing.

“I know that’ll never happen though,” he whispered.

A moment later, Harry felt wetness on his neck. The blonde must be tearing up. He felt his heart clench uncomfortably at the thought.

After a few minutes, there was no more wetness. Just soothing circles being rubbed into the brunette’s arm, and affectionate little nuzzles to his neck.

Harry wished more than anything that he could reciprocate.

Much too soon for the brunette’s liking, Malfoy gave one final sigh and pulled away. He rose from the chair, but before he left, Harry felt his hair being gently pushed back from his face.

“Potter, this hair is an abomination to all wizardkind.” Pause. “Don’t ever change it,” he all but whispered as his footsteps departed.

Harry was left grinning like an idiot on the inside.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 10_

_Draco’s POV_

 

Draco was a bit nervous as he neared the hospital wing. He knew Pomfrey was going to try to convince him to let her wake Potter up. He wasn’t ready for reality just yet. He was perfectly content with his little fantasy he’d been living in.

He pushed open the heavy door and went inside. About halfway to Potter’s bed, he noticed that something was different… Potter was wearing his glasses.

He got about two meters away when he realized it and froze. Potter was awake. And staring at him.

_Fucking hell._

Draco just stood there, glued to the spot, holding Potter’s gaze. Finally Potter spoke.

“Well, come and sit then. I know you’ve been visiting, it’s alright.”

The brunette seemed a bit hesitant. _No surprise there, he hates me after all._

Draco prepared himself for an awkward conversation and slowly approached. He paused just a moment before lowering himself into the chair. It wasn’t until he was comfortably seated that he raised his gaze and caught Potter’s again.

“So. Do you remember everything?” he asked uncertainly.

Potter gave a small smile before answering. _Odd_.

“Yes, I remember _everything_.”

Draco shifted a bit in his seat. “Listen, Potter, I- I’m sorry. When you fell… I mean, when I pushed you… I never meant for you to actually fall like that. I had no idea the stairs were about to move.”

“I know.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“I mean, we fight, but I don’t actually want to- to hurt you that badly. I was… I mean, I regret what happened.”

“Malfoy. I know.” His voice was soft and understanding.

Draco gave a little nod and looked away. He hesitated, and then asked, “So, do you have all of your mobility back yet?”

He wasn’t used to making small talk with Potter. This was awkward. At least the brunette was being amicable.

“No, not yet. Yesterday Pomfrey lifted the bind so I could see and talk, and I could move my hands, but that’s about it. Today I can move my whole head and arms and feet. I think I’ll be able to sit up in a few days,” he answered moodily.

“Oh.” That sounded horrible.

“Yeah… I actually spent the first time I was able to talk yelling at Pomfrey. She didn’t stop me, either. I was a bit surprised,” Potter said with a smirk.

Draco was surprised too, but for a different reason. “Why did you yell at her? What’d she do?”

Potter immediately stopped smirking and looked away for a moment. When he looked back, it was hesitant.

“Let me ask you something first. How were you punished? For the fight, I mean.”

Draco was a bit taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Don’t worry, my punishment is sufficient. I had the nerve to not grovel at our _savior’s_ feet, so of course I was severely punished,” he growled out with a glare.

“No, I didn’t mean… I’m serious. How badly were you punished?” Potter’s expression softened and he looked sincere.

Draco hesitated, but then answered the question. “I got detention and I’m banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of term.”

Potter looked away with a sigh.

“Why do you care?” asked the blonde moodily.

The brunette looked back, a sad look on his face. “Because… I think you’ve been punished enough. It’s the reason- well, one of the reasons- I yelled at Pomfrey.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco was completely baffled.

Potter looked away again and hesitated before locking eyes with him again.

“This whole time… I’ve been in a full body-bind because my spinal cord was broken. It was a highly sensitive thing to heal, and any tiny little movement could have prevented it from healing. So I couldn’t move at all. Not even my eyelids. But… I was not… in a coma. I was awake the whole time.”

Potter studied the blonde as he was explaining this, a sympathetic look on his face all the while.

Draco just listened… and then… and then all the color drained from his face.

“You were awake. The whole time,” he echoed.

Potter nodded.

“So… so you were awake… during my visits?” Draco held his breath.

Potter just nodded again.

Draco looked down at his lap as this sunk in. His mind was racing. He- he told Potter things… About his Dark Mark, and about liking to draw… and… _Oh my GOD_. And he bloody _hugged_ him, and cried countless times and… and… _Fuck! He knows._ His eyes widened before he could stop them as this realization smacked him upside the head.

His face was on fire and he couldn’t look at Potter anymore.

 _No no no no no._ Draco had to get himself under control. _So he knows. Doesn’t matter. Breathe._ He couldn’t control the furious blush he was sporting, but he was able to slip his mask into place. He closed off his mind, refusing to let the horrifying thoughts in, and focused on clearing his face of all emotion. His eyes remained firmly lowered.

“That’s what I meant when I said you’ve been punished enough. Pomfrey didn’t tell you, she let you just- just… well. You know,” Potter quietly explained.

Draco just sat there, shoulders tight, face crimson, but otherwise completely devoid of emotion. This was never supposed to happen. _Leave. I just need to leave. Now._

Slowly and carefully, so as not to embarrass himself further, Draco rose from the chair, eyes still cast downward. He started to turn when Potter called out.

“Wait! Malfoy, let’s just talk. Please, there’s a lot that I-”

“No,” Draco cut him off quietly. He was pleasantly surprised that his voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s nothing else that needs to be said.”

With that, Draco fled as quickly as he could without actually running. His heart was pounding and his stomach was churning dangerously. He could hardly breathe. He didn’t acknowledge Potter’s calls, not even when he used his given name. Once he was in the corridor outside the hospital wing, he broke out into a sprint to the nearest bathroom. He was certainly about to lose his lunch.

*             *             *             *             *

_Harry’s POV_

 

Malfoy rose from the chair slowly and started to turn away. His face was the reddest Harry had ever seen it, his shoulders tight and slightly hunched, but he had that damn mask in place. His emotions were unreadable.

“Wait! Malfoy, let’s just talk. Please, there’s a lot that I-”

“No,” Malfoy cut him off quietly.

Harry could no longer see his face, but the blonde’s hands were now shaking.

“There’s nothing else that needs to be said.” With that, Malfoy briskly made his way to the door.

“Malfoy, wait!”

Nothing.

“Please, can we talk?”

Malfoy kept walking. Harry was getting desperate. He felt empty, his heart painfully clenching in his chest.

“Draco!”

Still nothing. The heavy door was pushed open, then swung shut again, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Harry just laid there, feeling helpless and trapped. After watching his… _maybe-crush_ turn his back and walk away, he realized how much he had enjoyed the blonde’s company and all of his… _antics_. He sincerely hoped that that wasn’t his last visit.

Harry was _really_ going to yell at Pomfrey now.

*             *             *             *             *

_Days 11-13_

_Harry’s POV_

 

Malfoy still hadn’t visited since he found out that Harry had been awake all those times. Harry couldn’t blame him, but he was still extremely disappointed.

He was slowly regaining his mobility, and he tried to put all of his efforts into that to keep his mind off of the blonde.

His friends visited him frequently and he was happy to be able to actually talk to them, but he couldn’t help wishing they were _him_.

 _Oh, yes._ Harry was finally able to acknowledge and admit to himself what he’d been feeling for the blonde. There was no other possibility. Harry was gay, and he was falling for Malfoy.

He just needed an opportunity to _tell_ the stubborn git that.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 14_

_Draco’s POV_

 

Draco had been keeping to himself even more since he found out that all of his deepest secrets have been revealed to the one person he desperately wanted to keep them from. He needed to stay away from people. If one more person hexed him or accused him of trying to kill Potter, he’d have a bloody breakdown. He was _not_ in the mood.

However, it might be time to talk to Pansy… He was avoiding this. It somehow made the whole thing more _real_ once you confided in someone. But he didn’t really have a choice. He heard a rumor that Potter was being released from the hospital wing tomorrow, and he’d be forced to face him. He needed advice. Or at least a pep talk.

So, Draco swallowed his pride and crossed the common room to where Pansy was writing an essay. He cleared his throat.

Pansy glanced up before resuming her writing. “Darling, you’re blocking my light.”

Draco internally cringed. She knew full well he was in one of his moods. She should know that if he was seeking her out, it was for a reason.

He sighed loudly and shifted his weight so that his shadow covered her entire piece of parchment. When she looked up again, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fine. Meet me in yours,” Pansy sighed.

She began putting away her books and parchment as Draco turned on his heel and headed down the hall to the boys’ dormitories. Once in his own dorm, he dropped his mask and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He could do this. She already knew some of it.

When she entered the room, Draco shut the door behind her and cast a series of locking and privacy spells. Pansy just stared, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

Draco couldn’t do this. He started pacing, hands crammed in his pockets as he avoided her gaze.

“You’re in quite a state, aren’t you.” She sounded a bit surprised. “Well, let’s hear it then. I haven’t got all day.”

Draco stopped pacing and stood in front of her, eyes downcast, face flushed and feeling extremely vulnerable. If she knew what this was about, she might be a bit more understanding. He took a deep breath.

“Pans…  Remember in fifth year you…er… found something out? About me? And I swore you to secrecy and forbid you from ever bringing it up ever again?”

Pause.

He timidly chanced a glance at her. She had uncrossed her arms and her mouth was hanging open in shock. The blonde winced and lowered his gaze again.

“Are- are you talking about… Are you really bringing this up? So if I talk about it you won’t hex me?”

Draco gave a small nod, still staring at the floor.

Pansy took in a sharp breath and seemed to collect herself before she continued. “Yes, I remember finding out that… you and I share the same preference… I don’t understand, why is this coming up now?”

The blonde shifted his weight uncomfortably before answering. “I… I have a problem. And… I need your help,” he all but whispered. Now he _really_ couldn’t look at her. No respectable Slytherin asked for help outright. Maybe it would be easier if he just offed himself.

“Does this problem involve a bloke? One that you may have… _feelings_ for?”

“Fuck’s sake, Pansy.” Draco couldn’t stand this. He turned away and threw himself down on his bed miserably. He covered his face with both hands and groaned.

Pansy sighed and sat next to him. “I’m right though, aren’t I.” It wasn’t a question. “You like someone.”

The blonde peaked at her through his fingers and attempted a glare before fully covering his face again.

“Oh, grow up. If all you bothered me for was to find out how to seduce the man of your dreams, then I’m going back to my essay,” she growled as she stood up.

Draco sat bolt upright and grabbed her arm before she took more than a step away. Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes, but stopped when she took in his appearance.

The blonde was looking at her helplessly, the telltale signs that he was about to have a breakdown showing themselves in his desperation. His hand was holding her arm in a death grip, his eyes were pleading, and he was trembling slightly.

Pansy immediately dropped her fierce glare and studied him a moment. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? Salazar, Draco, fine. Just tell me everything and stop being a Hufflepuff already.” She took her seat next to him on the bed and he quickly released her arm.

“Right. Sorry. Just… give me a moment,” Draco replied, looking down at his wringing hands.

He took several deep breaths and slowly let them out. He had to tell her, and now. She was losing patience. _Alright. Just do it._

“I… I unknowingly told my… my crush how I feel. In a very embarrassing way. When I found out he knew, I- I fled and haven’t seen him since, but I know I’m going to see him tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do.” The whole thing came out in a rush. Draco couldn’t believe he was actually telling her. He didn’t think his face was capable of turning any more crimson.

“Darling…” Pansy started slowly. “You’re not making any sense. Why don’t you try explaining what you’re actually trying to tell me?”

Draco sighed exasperatedly. “Fine. Yes. Ok.” He pushed his hair back from his face in distress before swallowing the rest of his pride. “I… I guess I should start with the- the _who_ …” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. “It’s… it’s Potter,” he whispered while he squeezed his eyes shut.

Pause.

“Am I supposed to be surprised?” was the amused reply.

Draco was horrified. He dropped his hands and rounded on her. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE SURPRISED? Are you telling me it was _obvious_?!”

Pansy smirked and raised an eyebrow. “No, dear, not to anyone who isn’t me. I knew your secret, and therefore noticed things others didn’t. Don’t worry.”

Draco released the breath he’d been holding and relaxed minutely. “But… but you’re saying you noticed?” He was wrong. His face was definitely redder now.

“Not at the time, but in hindsight it makes sense. So, you fancy Potter and he somehow found out. But he’s been in a coma. When would he have?”

“That’s the thing… I’ve been visiting him in the hospital wing every day, talking to him. It started with me apologizing for putting him there… Then I moved on to more personal topics. I confided in him, told him about- about _everything_ I’d normally keep to myself. And- and I told him… how I feel. Pans, I practically _cuddled_ him for fuck’s sake. And… and then I went in there to visit the last time and he was awake. He- he told me he wasn’t in a coma, just a full body-bind and was awake for _all_ of it.”

Draco buried his face in his hands in misery.

“Salazar…” she breathed.

There was silence for a few minutes while Draco collected himself. Pansy never saw the tears though, he made sure of that. Finally, he looked up at her, defeated.

“He’s being released tomorrow. What do I do?” he asked weakly.

Pansy studied him. “Well…” She seemed to be thinking something over. “What happened after he told you he’d been awake?”

“He wanted to talk, but I said no and left.”

“Hmm.” She had a very contemplative look that Draco didn’t like one bit. “I want to see the memory.”

“What?”

“I want to see the memory. McGonagall kept Dumbledoor’s pensieve. I’m sure we could get Sev to let us use it.”

Draco was gob smacked. “No! I am _not_ reliving the most humiliating event of my life!”

Pansy crossed her arms and glowered. “Well then, tell me _exactly_ what happened, what was said, and _how_ it was said. If you’re story doesn’t meet my expectations, we are going to use the pensieve.”

There was no arguing. She won this round.

“Fine!” Draco then proceeded to tell her every last detail of that fateful visit, even going as far as to reenact it.

Once he had finished, she looked at him with a smug smirk that he wished he could slap right off of her face.

“Well, darling, I think you need to talk to him. Today. Before he gets released.”

Draco just stared at her. That’s _not_ what he wanted to hear. He was hoping for advice on how to completely avoid him. Maybe she had a bloke-repelling potion for when a bloke she wasn’t interested in kept pursuing her. Not this.

“Pansy… What in the bloody fuck are you talking about? I- I can’t-”

“You can and you will. I wouldn’t send you into a trap. Everyone’s been talking about Potter since the war, wondering whether he shares your… inclination. And from what you described, he was _desperate_ to get you to stay and talk to him. I think you’ll be surprised.” She gave him a smirk and a wink before rising from the bed.

The disgruntled blonde gave her his nastiest glare in return.

Her smirk grew. “Oh, Draco, don’t be a coward. Talk to him or I’ll hex you. I’ll write ‘I love Potter’ on your forehead in everlasting ink.”

 _That bint_. Draco wanted to scream. Or throw something. He knew she’d do it, too. _Fuck_.

“Fine, but if this goes poorly, which it will, I will hex you into next week!”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, love. Now go get him.” With that, she undid the privacy spells and opened the door. Before she left though, she added over her shoulder, “Oh, and Draco? I’d do it now. Visiting hours end in two hours.”

She just managed to disappear through the door and shut it behind her as the book Draco threw crashed into it. “Bitch.”

*             *             *             *             *

Twenty minutes later found Draco outside the hospital wing, shaking and trying to regulate his hammering heart. He could ask Pomfrey for a calming draught before he spoke with Potter… No, Potter would see and know that he was nervous enough to need a calming draught just to talk to him. _Bollocks_.

He stayed outside the hospital wing for another five minutes, taking deep breaths and attempting to relax. Finally, he knew he just had to get it over with. He steeled himself, and then pushed open the heavy door and made his way to Potter’s bed.

By the time he got within two meters, he had lost all of his determination. His steps slowed, his head bowed lower, and he felt his cheeks flame. He came to a stop a few feet from Potter’s bedside. He could see that the brunette was sitting up in his peripherals.

Draco felt incredibly stupid. He had just stormed in, then stopped looking all shy and nervous. _Bloody fucking hell, this was a mistake._

“Hey… Come sit.” Potter sounded friendly enough.

The blonde took a deep breath and slowly let it out before crossing the remaining few feet and sitting in the chair. His eyes never left the floor.

“I’m glad you came,” Potter said gently.

 _Great_. He was treating Draco like some fragile Hufflepuff.

The blonde steeled himself again. “I just wanted to apologize… for everything. And I promise I’ll leave you alone from now on, if that’s what you want.”

Pause.

Yup. Draco was going to have to off himself after this. He rose from the chair, humiliated and feeling completely rejected, and turned away when Potter called out.

“Wait! It’s alright. I forgive you. For… everything.” It almost sounded like Potter might be smiling. Draco was too afraid to look. “Please, come back. Talk to me.”

Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. This could be a prank. Potter could be getting him back for putting him in the hospital wing. Or… he could actually want to talk…

Pansy’s words came back to him then; _‘Oh, Draco, don’t be a coward.’_ He was not going to be a coward.

He slowly turned back to face Potter, eyes still downcast.

Potter reached out then and grabbed Draco’s hand, squeezing it gently. The blonde froze, but didn’t pull his hand away. He stared at their clasped hands, unable to breathe.

A moment later, Potter gave Draco’s hand a tug, pulling him right next to the bed. Another tug had him sitting on the bed. The blonde allowed this, but his insides were churning and flipping dangerously. His face was hot and the hand being held must be sweaty. He was sure Potter could also feel him shaking.

“Your visits… they really meant a lot to me.”

 Potter sounded sincere. His voice was gentle and steady. It was almost a comfort.

“I feel like I’ve actually gotten to know you. At least a bit, anyway. More than I did before. And you didn’t treat me like a _fallen hero_. You treated me like a person who was injured. And you talked to me. Told me things. Because that can help people who are in comas. You thought you were helping me.”

Yes, he definitely had to be smiling. Draco was still too afraid to look.

“I actually found myself looking forward to your visits, believe it or not. They were nice… Comforting.”

Draco wasn’t sure if Potter meant to be putting him at ease, but really this was just getting more and more embarrassing. Although… at least he didn’t hate the visits… That was a good sign, right?

There was a pause in which Potter rubbed his thumb along Draco’s knuckles. Not unlike when Draco did the same to him during those visits. It was oddly… _intimate_. It’s what gave him the courage to ask what he’d come here for.

The blonde cleared his throat and took a sharp breath. “So, um. So how do you feel about… about how _I_ feel… about you?” he all but whispered.

He bit his lip and made an extraordinary effort not to either squeeze Potter’s hand or wrench his own hand away completely.

“That’s sort of why I wanted to talk to you. I tried to last time, but you left too quickly… I’ve seen this whole other side of you that- that I _really_ like. I’d love to explore it more.”

That’s not what Draco was expecting. He held his breath and risked what little remained of his dignity, and tentatively looked up into those brilliant green eyes. Potter’s smile was blinding.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. Potter was looking at him with- with such _passion_. He’d never seen that before. It was intoxicating. He vaguely registered their fingers lacing together, but he was distracted by the fact that Potter was leaning closer.

Draco was frozen to the spot. This wasn’t happening. Surely this couldn’t be happening.

Potter closed the gap. Soft lips pressed against the blonde’s, slowly moving to encourage his participation.

Potter was kissing him.

Draco returned the kiss, eyes slipping closed just as the wetness escaped. He didn’t care. He kept moving his lips until he felt them being gently worked open. He invited the hot tongue that swirled around his own, loving the taste and the heat and the _passion_.

Pansy was right. It pays not to be a coward.

*             *             *             *             *

_Day 15_

_Madam Pomfrey’s POV_

 

Poppy was pleased to see that Potter was regaining his mobility right on schedule. She was honestly growing tired of all the drama that surrounded the boy, and couldn’t wait until noon when he’d be discharged.

She had kept her word and only monitored him when his heart rate was elevated, but over the past two weeks, that had been an almost daily occurrence. She overheard things… _seen_ things that she would have been happy never to have heard or seen. Things she knew her students would never have wanted her to have heard or seen. But alas, she did.

She mused over the implications of those monitored visits as she checked the inventory of her potions. She had basically witnessed the whole progression of a rivalry turn into a sort of one-sided friendship, turn into a reciprocated romantic relationship.

Oh, such drama.

Noon finally came, and she was secretly pleased to see Malfoy lurking a few beds away. Smiling to herself, Poppy cast the diagnostic spells one more time on Potter, and then filled out the forms to discharge him. She dismissed him with the instructions that he must not play any sports or engage in any other _physical_ activity for one full week, to which she was amused to see a blush spread across the boy’s cheeks.

Simple pleasures.

Poppy returned to her office, but monitored the ward just to be certain the boy was walking alright.

She wasn’t at all surprised to see that Malfoy had an arm around Potter and was helping him to the door, or that the two shared a kiss before exiting.

She sighed to herself. She was resigned to the fact that she’d be seen as the bad guy. Her plan worked beautifully though, whether the boys will ever realize it or not. Malfoy never would have spilled his secrets to Potter if he knew he was conscious.

 And Malfoy certainly was a big softy at heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, I'd love to hear what you think!


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